Unwanted Attention
by Left to Write
Summary: When Hermione is attacked, all three of the trio are shaken. This is a story of the attack, the pain, and the slow recovery they all go through. Adult themes, drama mixed with suspense mixed with romance, and a dash of comic relief. Please, readreview
1. First Day

Hermoine Granger, rushing eagerly out of the Hogwarts Express, didn't see the small but sharp rise on the doorway. "Wait up—" she started to call after her long-legged friends, before her foot caught and she tipped forward. She was bracing herself for impact, lamenting already her smashed ink bottles and cursing her clumsiness—when she was stopped by an arm snaking around her waist. "You'd best watch where you're going, Granger," said a cold, familiar drawl.

Hermione twisted around in surprise, trying to push away. The arm held her firmly to him. "Malfoy! Let go of me!"

"This is the thanks I get for saving you from tripping on the first day of sixth year? Fine. I'm sure you can take care of yourself." He loosened his grip and, jerking away from him, she nearly fell off again. Pulling her back to him, laughing, he held on even tighter this time. "You are a walking disaster, Granger."

"Hey! Malfoy! Just what do you think you're doing?" Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, who had only turned around just in time to see him pull her to him for the second time, were rushing up to their friend. They both looked more than a little angry. From third year, when Hermione had landed the infamous slap, Malfoy had definitely grown into a tall, broad shouldered young man. They had, too, though Ron was a little taller and still lanky, and Harry was slightly shorter up as well as across. Hermione had gone through all her growth spurts some time ago with the rest of the girls, and though they knew she was capable of taking care of herself, she looked small next to Draco Malfoy.

"I'm saving your friend from her own clumsy feet, Potty, Weasel." Releasing her and giving her a hand down from the train, Draco bowed with a flourish and a smirk and, just like that, left.

Ron clearly wanted to go after him, but Harry made him wait. "What was that all about, Hermione? Are you all right?" Ron was muttering about slug-spewing spells.

Laughing, Hermione reached up to pat Ron on the cheek. "Surprisingly enough, I really did trip, and he really did catch me. Honestly, Harry, you know I can take care of Malfoy. If I can't turn him into a ferret, I can always hit him again."

Ron took his hand away from the cheek Hermione's hand had touched, saying angrily, "Well, he was holding you a lot closer and a lot tighter than he needed to. Besides, even if he hadn't been, why do we need an excuse to go beat the brains out of that git?" Harry, too, was looking longingly in the direction of Draco Malfoy.

"Please, you two. If you start a fight now, you'll miss the Sorting and end up with detention before school even begins. Let's try to have you see more than a couple of Sortings before you graduate. In any case," she looked bemused, "He stopped my ink bottles from smashing and my hands from skinning. Who'd have thought?"

"Yeah, well," Harry said darkly. "If Malfoy were being nice to me, I'd stay even farther away from him than when he's trying to hex me."

And Hermione could not help but agree.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

I hope you liked the first chapter! Before we continue, a little context is in order. This is a story I wrote under a different username, and then abandoned over a year ago. A little while ago, I came back to my old account, which I had not updated for a long time, and the rush of memories was overwhelming. I was inspired to continue--until I realized that this story was my writing when I was fourteen years old. Not up to today's standards. I decided to completely overhaul it--rewrite it under a new account, delete it on the old one, and use the old one only for reviewing. This is the result. On the slim chance that you read the earlier story, you will find that the first couple of chapters are only edited for fluency, while the later chapters take a considerable change in content.

One more thing: This story takes place in sixth year, and is not HBP compliant. I just didn't want to change it from what it was; I had written it before HBP came out, and I like it best as a sixth year piece.

Thank you for your patience, and on with the show! 


	2. Crookshanks

"Crookshanks!" Hermione panted, "Come- back- here!" The ginger cat had been leading Hermione, and sporadically other students, on a chase for the past five minutes. So far every effort had been in vain and Crookshanks was showing no signs of tiring. Occasionally he would jump into the lap of a startled second year, or scatter a loudly protesting chess set, but he would always bound away again before anyone could catch him. Hermione's wand lay useless in her dormitory, where it was soaking in overnight Polishing Potion. Harry and Ron were outside, practicing Quidditch.

It had been a very tiring day, what with double History of Magic and an exhausting, although admittedly eventful, Transfiguration. Ron had somehow, no one could figure out just what he did, managed to Conjure a skunk instead of a scarf. Poor creature, it had been frightened out of its wits by all the witchcraft in the vicinity, and had sprayed its stink everywhere. Professor McGonagall had taken ten points from Gryffindor (only ten because it was very difficult to Conjure a mammal) and made Ron interrupt Snape's first year class to get the Dissipating Cordial from him. Ron had come back punching things and muttering to himself, and then everyone had had to leave class to bathe in tomato juice. Just five minutes before, Crookshanks had let out a yowl to make the entire common room fall silent, then came screeching down the girls' staircase, and Hermione was not anywhere near done with the week's homework.

Just then, the worst thing possible happened. Neville Longbottom, having been to the Owlery to ask his grandmother to send him all the things he had forgotten, returned. Hermione did not hear him say the password ("Gobbledegook") until it was too late. The portrait swung open, Neville entered, and Crookshanks seized the opportunity to leap out through the portrait hole and into the hallway. A shriek was heard from the Fat Lady.

Hermione dived through the portrait hole just as it swung shut, looking around wildly. "Please, Crookshanks!" The cat was dashing away from the common room as fast as his bowed legs could carry him.

"Crookshanks, no!" Hermione squeaked. The sight of her cat dashing through the halls at top speed shocked her out of her tiredness. She scrambled desperately after him, imagining all the havoc he could wreak on the school if he wanted to—which seemed to be the case—or what could happen to him once someone finally lost their temper with him.

She chased wildly after him, narrowly avoiding several shrieking students, and almost going right through Professer Binns.

They were just running past an intersection when Crookshanks, apropos of nothing, skidded to a halt. Executing a tight about-face, he then started running again, going right between the legs of a very startled, very frazzled Hermione. He turned left at the intersection they had so recently passed, his tail expanding in a puff of fur. Hermione rushed after, bewildered, as Crookshanks disappeared around a corner.

Much to her dismay, she heard a hiss, then a shout and a curse. "Wait!" she shouted desperately. She rounded the corner.

Now it was her turn to skid to a halt. Malfoy was there with his flunkies (Goyle and Crabbe), who stood there staring stupidly. Crookshanks had latched himself onto Malfoy's leg and was clawing viciously.

Hermione saw Malfoy drawing his wand and panicked completely. "Don't hurt him!" she howled, not even sure to whom she spoke. She hurled herself at Malfoy, thudding into him, and they both toppled over. They landed beside each other, but did not stay that way for long. Hermione pulled herself across Malfoy and at last managed to seize Crookshanks, checking him for any injuries. Drawing him close, she began to catch her breath.

"Granger," came Malfoy's dangerously soft voice from somewhere down by her feet. "I hate to break up such a touching reunion…"

Hermione realized she was lying on top of Draco Malfoy and, giving a little gasp, stood up as if she had just fallen into a puddle of bubotober pus. Clutching Crookshanks to her, she backed away, stumbled, and fell into the big hairy arms of Vincent Crabbe.

Malfoy laughed as she shot up out of Crabbe's arms, looking thoroughly harassed. "Granger, I think you need to go to bed." Crookshanks hissed and spat, trying to get in a swipe at Malfoy. Grin gone, he said, "And take that beast with you." When Hermione, who was in a state of emotional upset, didn't move, he took a step towards her. Or rather tried to, stumbled, and cursed.

"Oh!" Hermione said, looking guiltily at Malfoy's torn robes and thoroughly scratched legs. She reached into her robes for her wand before remembering she didn't have it. Nervously she eyed the three young men before addressing Malfoy. "I—I could fix that if you'd just lend me your wand"

Malfoy laughed in her face.

"Well, it's that or the hospital wing!" she said angrily. "You can't do it yourself, you're rubbish at Healing magic, and do you really want to let them at your scratches?" She gestured towards Crabbe and Goyle.

"All right, Granger." It was not intelligent to trust Crabbe and Goyle with your injuries. "Goyle, take her cat." His smirk had returned. "You can have that creature back when I have my wand."

About to protest, Hermione closed her mouth. She felt guilty for what Crookshanks had done. With soothing words she surrendered her still-hissing cat and took Malfoy's wand. It was thick and had a polished, almost metallic gleam to it, and was about twelve inches. It was heavy.

Kneeling in front of Malfoy to see his wounds more clearly was necessary; close contact was very important in Healing. So she knelt and pushed aside the tatters of his robes, touching his wand to his legs. She began with the left leg; screwing up her nose in concentration, muttering the incantation. Soon she had finished with both legs. "Reparo!" she commanded, and his robes seamed themselves together as if they had never seen a cat.

She handed his wand up to him, then made to get to her feet.

Suddenly his hands were on her shoulders, keeping her down.

Her heart skipped a beat.

"What" she stopped to swallow "What are you doing?"

Malfoy chuckled. "I think I rather like you down here on your knees in front of me, Granger." Hermione tried to get up again; he pressed down harder, massaging her shoulders with his rough hands. He pulled her toward him. She tried to pull away, but years of Quidditch had given him hard muscles.

Hermione was acutely aware of several facts. The first was that her wand was far, far away from here. The second was that Harry and Ron were even farther away, on the Quidditch pitch. The third was that Crabbe and Goyle went along with anything Malfoy ever suggested.

She felt very small and Malfoy looked very tall. Her eyes darted around wildly, her heart was beating madly, and she let out a small whimper. She felt faint.

The pressure on her shoulders was miraculously relieved; she was freed. "What is wrong with you, Granger?" Malfoy sounded disgusted. "It was a joke."

Hermione, in the midst of scrambling, backing away, stopped tentatively. "A joke?" she asked, reaching for Crookshanks. Goyle waited for Malfoy's assent before gratefully shoving the angry cat into her arms.

"Yes. A joke. They're funny little things that aren't serious. Heard of them?"

Hermione got up. Her legs were trembling; she made them stop. It had certainly not been funny to her, but he hadn't really hurt her, and he had let her go when he had seen that she didn't understand it was a joke…. Perhaps it was Malfoy's idea of a joke. He had been acting really rather nice to her lately. It was true that his jokes weren't funny, but it seemed he was making an effort to be friendly with her. Besides, she still felt guilty over Crookshanks, and last week at Potions. "Yes…well, all right then. Thank you for not hurting Crookshanks. I assure you he will not be getting any cream with his supper for quite some time." The fluffy cat looked at her in reproach. "Well, you deserve it!" she snapped.

Draco smirked. "Ah, Granger, talking to your cat. Like I said before, I think you need to get to bed. Yours or mine?"

Hermione looked up at him in shock.

"Joke…"

She laughed a little. She supposed it was a little funny, at that. She laughed again. He was right; she was tired. "Mine, I think, this time."

Laughing back, he said "Ah, very well then. Never doubt, however, that I shall be asking again."

Hermione walked off, nuzzling Crookshanks. Malfoy probably didn't know how to be very good friends with anyone, but he might be making an effort.

Malfoy studied Hermione's retreating back. It was good that he had so much control, and that he was worn out from her healing. Good for her.


	3. Breakfast

Hermione's eyes snapped open. One of her favorite assets was that she seemed to have a very accurate internal clock, one which woke her up within fifteen minutes of when she wanted to be up without fail. Today she was about ten minutes later than she wanted to be. No wonder, since the tiring and confusing events of yesterday. She showered and changed, then went down to the Great Hall.

Harry and Ron were already there, it appeared a little less than halfway through their breakfast. She slid down into a seat across from them.

"Hello, 'Mione," said Ron, voice slightly muffled by a mouthful of toast.

"We hear Crookshanks caused a nice little ruckus in the common room yesterday," Harry grinned.

Hermione blushed and busied herself with the food. This only served to broaden their grins. Ron continued. "Nearly took out poor Colin Creevey's eye before jumping out of the portrait hole."

"Care to tell us who he killed out there?"

"Actually," Hermione said, "It was Malfoy."

The two young men roared with laughter. "You're joking!" Ron choked. "Where is he? I want to see his scratches! I hope Crookshanks got him good."

"Well, he did," she said hesitantly, "But he doesn't have them any more." They let out groans of disappointment.

"Suppose he got someone to heal him. I wonder who it was? No one in Slytherin is much good at healing, and Malfoy wouldn't go to the hospital wing unless he saw some other advantage to it."

Hermione muttered a word under her breath.

"Say what?" Harry asked, scraping his plate with a fork before reaching for seconds.

Looking down, she said softly, "Me. It was me."

Harry dropped his fork.

"What? Why would you ever want to do such a thing for Malfoy?" Ron looked thunderstruck.

"It was my cat, Ron. So it was my fault he got those scratches. It wasn't really much work to heal them, you know. Besides, he was only j—" she cut off abruptly, cursing her sleep-slowed mind.

"Only what?" Ron demanded. She blushed. Ron and Harry would not be happy if they found out what Malfoy had done, even if it had been a joke.

Harry leaned forward. "Hermione, what happened? What was Malfoy just? Hermione? Why can't you look at us?"

Hermione looked up defiantly. Big mistake. Harry's sharp green eyes were intense behind his glasses, compelling her to tell all.

"It was only a joke…." she repeated, then began to tell of Crookshanks' escape, Malfoy's scratches, her guilt, and his joke. She remembered how terrified she had been, but she had also been tired, which probably had made her miss some indication of his joking. Her voice faltered more than once—they really didn't need to know—but Harry's eyes were always there, concerned but determined. She glossed over how helpless she had felt and played up the severity of Malfoy's scratches. Finishing, she looked at them tentatively. No one spoke. The chatter of the Gryffindors beside them (they were at the end of the table) only served to emphasize the ringing silence of the two she sat across from. It did not last long.

Hearing a strange sound, she looked at Ron. His fist clenched around a broken, misshapen piece of metal that had just been a goblet. Pumpkin juice slopped over on his wrist. His ears were darker than she'd ever seen them. She almost shrank back from the look in his eyes. Finally he spoke. "That—filthy—disgusting—vile—perverted—! Where is he?" He zeroed in on the Slytherin table, murderous eyes searching for Malfoy.

"No! I don't want a fuss! It was only a joke!" Hermione felt ill when she thought what would happen if Harry and Ron attacked Malfoy in the Great Hall. At the least Ron would probably get his prefectdom revoked. "Didn't you hear me? He stopped when he saw I didn't get it."

"He shouldn't have started!" Ron said loudly, then looked around and lowered his voice to a hiss. "If he was joking, why didn't he stop the first time you tried to get away? The second? The third?"

"Hermione," Harry said quietly. Quietly, but his eyes were just as scary as Ron's. "Hermione, he played this joke on you when you were all alone and he knew you didn't have your wand. That is the sickest….How any man, even Malfoy, could joke like that…. I can tell you were more scared than you say you were. Malfoy terrified you, Hermione."

"That was just because I was tired—" she cut off as Ron let out a growl of triumph. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had just risen from the Slytherin table and were making their way to the door. Along the way, Malfoy caught Hermione's eye and gave a little wave, smirking. She waved back while locking her legs around Ron's. This shocked him enough that he stopped trying to get up, at least for a second; long enough for Malfoy to saunter out.

"See?" she begged. "He's trying to be friendly, he was kidding…" Ignoring her, Ron started to get up. Harry made as if to follow. "Harry!" It was useless to try to reason with Ron once his temper was up. "You'll get in so much trouble! What if you get expelled? Ron's a prefect, I'll get in trouble too, you'll have to tell the professors why…. Don't risk that for something I don't want to be defended for! Please, Harry!" Harry, who had halted somewhere in the middle of her speech, sighed heavily and seized Ron's arm. Ron kept trying to pull away until Hermione stood up, leaned over, and grasped his hand. When he and Harry at last sat down, Hermione almost collapsed with relief. She kept her hand on Ron to be safe, though.

Harry rubbed at his scar. "How are we supposed to react? Just ignore how close he came to…to forcing…." Furious, he couldn't say it.

"Yes! It—wasn't—serious. I'm fine. How can you attack Malfoy if I'm fine?" She was exasperated nearly to tears. Ron saw the shine of her eyes and sighed.

"'Mione…. What about Crookshanks? He knew about Pettigrew, and now he's going after Malfoy."

"Oh, of course, Ron," said Hermione scathingly, "Malfoy is an Animagus disguising himself as a human. Why didn't I see it before?"

"You know what I mean! I don't trust Malfoy as far as I could throw him, and neither should you!"

"Don't you tell me who to trust, Ron Weasley!"

"Keep it down!" Harry whispered, looking around. Happily, Ginny was engaging all near her in a humorous account of a trick she'd played over the summer on Fred and George, but if Ron and Hermione got as loud as they sometimes did during their rows, then even the staff table would be able to hear.

Hermione took a deep breath, calming herself visibly. "If Malfoy is trying to be friendly, it may well be something he hasn't done a lot of before. He probably has no idea how far is too far. The last thing we should do is discourage Malfoy being nice. Remember how we treated Kreacher, and what happened with him? He was so mean, and yet if everyone had just been a little more patient with him… I don't want to cut Malfoy off if he's trying to broaden his horizons."

"I don't care," said Ron stubbornly. "I don't want Malfoy alone with you. What will he joke about next?" Harry nodded.

Sighing, Hermione acquiesced. They were only concerned about her. "Now," she said, "that that's settled, I think we should get started right away on the homework due Monday. Don't look at me like that. I think we should start with…"

Incident forgotten, she planned out their Saturdays for them.


	4. Machismo

Harry and Ron had not forgotten. She had saved their skins before, and they were not going to stand by when the likes of Draco Malfoy was going around and joking like that with her. Quietly they let her plan their day, patiently they let her execute her plan, agreeably they did their homework. But on Sunday, after dinner….

"We'll catch you later," said Ron. "I need to return this book to the library, or Madam Pince will have my head." He gestured toward his bag.

"I'll come with you," said Hermione.

"You have to feed Crookshanks," Harry reminded her. Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth.

"You're right! And I didn't feed him after lunch, because of Malfoy. Poor Crookshanks! See you both later!" Distractedly, she dashed off.

Once she had disappeared around the corner, Harry and Ron set off to a point about halfway between the Great Hall and the Slytherin wing. There they waited for Malfoy, human scum extraordinaire.

They didn't have to wait very long. Soon Malfoy came striding down the hall, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Talking amongst themselves, they didn't see Harry and Ron until they were almost upon them. Malfoy grinned broadly, then turned to his faithful subordinates. "Go on," he said. "Nothing to worry about here." Though they looked confused, they obeyed his command. "Potter, Weasley." He nodded.

"Eat dirt, Malfoy."

"Come now, what's this? A civil greeting by me and an insult returns it? I'm hurt." He touched his heart, smirking all the while. "What particular reason do I have to eat dirt today?"

"Hermione told us!" Ron said furiously. "She told us about your—your joke. You filthy git, how dare you treat Hermione like that?"

"So she told you, did she? So she told you it was a joke? Then why are you here?"

"You terrified her!" Harry snapped. "Hermione wouldn't admit to being terrified, but she was alone without her wand and you were holding her down on her knees! You little—"

"She doesn't know you're here, then. Honestly, just because Granger couldn't recognize a joke if it slapped her on the ass—"

They both launched themselves at him, but Malfoy was ready. Raising his arm, where he had been concealing his wand in his sleeve, he screamed "Impedimenta!" Harry and Ron froze in midair, and Malfoy leaned against the wall carelessly. "Now then, haven't I been nothing but nice this year? All I've done is play a harmless joke at Granger's minor expense, and find a few excuses to feel her up. That's not too much for helping her out of more than one sticky situation, now, is it? What I think is that you two just wish you had thought of it first."

While he had been speaking, Harry had gotten angrier and angrier. He could feel it building to the danger zone, and Malfoy's sleazy voice and his careless words just kept feeding it. Ron was incensed too, but it was Harry who could focus his anger without even thinking about it, Harry who had set a snake on his cousin, Harry who had blown up his aunt.

Of a sudden there was a little popping noise, and several things then happened very quickly. Malfoy let out a choking noise and clutched at his throat, dropping his wand. The Impedimenta hex broke. Harry and Ron went tumbling forward. They landed on the floor with a shout and stumbled into Malfoy, pushing him back against the wall. Ron and Harry, recovering quickly, had their wands out and at Malfoy's throat like knives. Ron, who hadn't been able to find an outlet for his anger like Harry had, punched Malfoy hard in the face.

Malfoy coughed, gasped, and wheezed, weakened from his temporary strangulation. He kept wheezing a while after he should have been able to stop, and they realized he was laughing. "Touched a nerve, did I? Don't like me talking about Granger like that?" he rasped. "Well, what are you going to do to me?" He grinned at them.

Harry and Ron glanced at each other. They could already be in trouble. Not just with the school, but with Hermione. The last thing they wanted right then was to cause Hermione stress.

"All right," Harry said in a low voice. "For Hermione, we're letting you off easy. You should be grateful to her. You had better be. I've faced some who are a lot harder to hurt than you, and so has Ron. But you had better watch your jokes from now on." He let go of Malfoy, very reluctantly.

Malfoy massaged his throat. "Excellent," he said. "And, why not? Since you're letting me off so easy, so will I. For Hermione, I won't even report you." Picking up his wand and ignoring theirs suddenly pointing at him, he performed a Concealing Charm on the bruise that was forming where Ron's fist had been so recently. "But you had better watch yourselves from now on." He swept them another bow and went off to Slytherin wing.

Harry and Ron exchanged looks. What was Malfoy doing? Why wasn't he reporting them? Was he really being benevolent? Malfoy? It just couldn't be. It didn't matter. All they could do was make sure Hermione was never alone with Malfoy.

Malfoy turned a corner and leaned against the wall, massaging his throat and smiling. Perhaps they thought he was easy to hurt, but they were far easier. Good people were always very easy to hurt. In this case, he knew just how. This incident only made up his mind more firmly about one or two points. He hadn't looked for this benefit, but now he would enjoy things all the more. His throat still hurt and he didn't care; they would all pay for it.

For Hermione. If they only knew. If they only knew.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

To no one's surprise, Hermione's hand was in the air. "It is the hair on the back of the werewolf's tail," she said breathlessly. "It's very difficult to get, but has amazingly useful properties in transforming potions."

"Did I call on you, Miss Granger?" Snape asked softly. "No? Then be quiet." He looked tired, and Harry guessed he had been wearing his mask last night. Harry decided not to jump at him for his abruptness with Hermione. Hermione looked hurt, but she saw the scratch on his hand and the bags under his eyes, and kept quiet. Ron, however, was having none of it.

"Now wait just a minute!" he said. "She was the only one who raised her hand. How could you not let her answer?"

Snape's eyes glittered. "Do not question me, Weasley, I warn you. Do not push me today."

Ron glared but fell silent. Snape turned away and continued the lecture.

Waiting only until his attention was on another student, Ron began to mutter angrily to his friends. "What's he on about today? That git needs some serious help. Why did you let him talk to you like that, Hermione? He can't just keep picking on us, I've had enough, six years of him hating us and I can't stand…"

"Ron!" Hermione whispered. "Can't you see he's tired today? Don't harass him..."

"Granger. Now you're talking out of turn again? Detention. Tonight you can clean Room Eleven, where Firenze taught briefly last year. No magic."

Harry was opening his mouth to protest—there were limits to the license being tired gave you—but was beaten to the punch.

"Professor! That's not fair. Weasley was the one talking, not her." None other than Draco Malfoy was coming to the defense of one of his worst enemies. The entire room stared at him openmouthed.

Snape shut his mouth, then opened it again. "I'm surprised at you, Mr. Malfoy. But as you wish—you can help Granger clean Room Eleven tonight."

The astonishment of the class only grew when Malfoy sat down and smirked, looking enormously self-satisfied.


	5. Detention

"I still don't understand," muttered Ron. "Why on earth would Malfoy stick up for you? In front of Snape, no less."

"Honestly, Ron," said Hermione. "You should be grateful for it. What if Malfoy is actually coming 'round?"

"It just doesn't make sense. Since when is Malfoy a good guy?"

"Malfoy had better not be late, anyway," Ron grumbled.

"Ron, don't be too hard on Malfoy tonight. You are the reason we are all here. You don't even have to be here yourself, you know."

"I said I didn't want Malfoy alone with you and I meant it. And it's not just me. Harry would be here too if he didn't have a Quidditch Captain meeting," Ron said defensively as they entered Classroom Eleven.

They appraised the workload. Classroom Eleven was dusty, but mostly clean. A grimy teacher's desk stood at the front of the room, and a few tables and chairs for students were scattered throughout. The closet looked like it might need a thorough job. Malfoy was lounging on the chair behind the desk. He rose when he saw them.

"Weasley…what a surprise. I don't recall Snape giving you detention? Oh, of course…" his eyes traveled over to Hermione, giving her a once over. "Must protect Granger from the Big Bad Malfoy. Well, you'd better work if you're going to be here."

"Of course I'll—" Ron snapped heatedly before another person entered the room.

"Good, Granger, you're here, and Mr. Malfoy. Weasley, what are you doing here?" Snape asked softly.

"I'm just keeping 'Mione company," Ron said, unsure if Snape would let him stay.

They were in luck. "Hmm… Very well, then. But I want this room sterile. If it isn't, you'll all have another detention. I can't stay right now," he touched his left forearm absently, "so you'll all just have to do it yourselves. I trust you don't need a babysitter? Good. I'm leaving Malfoy in charge."

Ron groaned inwardly at Malfoy's sudden and broad grin.

It didn't take overly long, although Hermione insisted that they held up to Snape's rule of no magic. An hour later, they were wrapping things up. Ron was pushing tables back into order, Hermione was putting away the cleaning supplies, and Malfoy had finished drying the desk and was now sitting on the chair, polishing his wand.

Hermione spotted a small stain on the countertop and sighed when she saw the paper towels were up on the very top shelf, where she couldn't reach. "Ron?" she asked. "Would you mind getting that for me?" She pointed.

"Sure, 'Mione," Ron said, grinning at her, eight inches below him. She hovered around him as they both concentrated on the shelf.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Harry walked into the common room to an oasis of calm and smiled. Hogwarts really felt like home to him. The smile faded as he recalled the meeting of Quidditch captains. This year was going to be tough. With Voldemort who-knew-where, the teachers were panicked and the entire season could be canceled at a moments notice. Some new, good players were on other teams and Fred and George were gone. The Beaters they had now were good, but not as good as the twins. Still, there would be no giving up. The Gryffindors would keep the Cup—they would just have to work extra hard.

In an instant, the oasis was no more, as for the second time in as many weeks, Crookshanks let out a howl and blazed down the staircase from the girls' dormitory. Several girls shrieked.

"Not that bloody cat again!" Dean howled. "Hermione needs to get rid of him!" There were nods of agreement. Crookshanks ran around in circles, swiping at the occasional unwary student, and howling constantly. Then he saw Harry.


	6. Reckoning

Neither of them saw it coming. Neither of them noticed a thing until Malfoy's cry of "Expelliarmus!" Caught off guard, their wands flew from their hands to Malfoy's. Turning around, they saw Malfoy point his wand at the door and say quickly "Colloportus," (there was then a small clicking sound) before turning back to them with a grin. "Hello," he said. "I've been waiting for this chance for a long time."

Ron let out a snarl and began to charge, but Malfoy pointed his wand at Hermione. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." Ron stopped short.

"Malfoy?" Hermione said slowly. Her heart was beating like it had been the night with Crookshanks, fast and out of control. "What are you doing?"

Malfoy's grin widened. Suddenly he pointed his wand at Ron. With a flick, something emanated from it, something that pushed Ron into a chair. Another flick, and dark ropes snaked out, twining themselves around Ron, binding him tightly to the chair.

"M-malfoy…" Hermione said unsteadily, "Is this a joke? Malfoy, please, it's not funny anymore!" She looked around. Should she leave for help? Abandon Ron?

Draco Malfoy looked at her hungrily. "A joke? No. No, it's not a joke. But it is going to be exceedingly funny." He looked at Ron, struggling madly against the ropes. "For me, it is."

Making her decision, Hermione made a dash for the door. She seized the handle and pulled—but it was locked. The last feeling she felt was panic. Then she heard the lazy voice behind her say "Imperio!" and all emotions were gone.

All feeling was gone, all emotion. She felt only bliss. From far away a voice said Come here, and she obeyed happily. This was the voice that had given her the bliss: of that she was certain. A muffled voice said "No, 'Mione!" but she took no notice.

Take off your robes, she heard, and obeyed without question. She began to fold her robes, but they were snatched away and tossed to the floor. Inwardly she frowned, then shivered. Standing here in just her underthings, she was chilly.

Unclasp and take off your bra, she heard. The muffled voice—actually, it wasn't so muffled—snarled "You bastard, what are you doing with her?" and she wondered what it meant. She obeyed, again without question.

Yessss…Now your underwear.

A new voice came. Her voice. No, it said. No. It's cold and I don't want anyone to see me like that.

TAKE IT OFF! shouted the voice that had brought her bliss. Frightened, her hands wavered toward her panties. She didn't want to, yet she had to. She was just giving in when the muffled voice spoke, except that it was barely muffled at all, now. "Yes, Hermione," it said urgently. "Fight! You don't want this!"

The other voice snapped, annoyed as if it had sensed her about to give in before these last words, Don't listen to him. Obey me! NOW!

"No!" she shouted, and the bliss was gone. There was Ron, bound hand and foot to a chair, his eyes pleading. She stood at the side of the desk, her arms wrapped around herself. The light was unbearably bright.

Livid with rage was Malfoy, staring at her with a mixture of fury, disbelief, and hunger. "Well," he whispered, "If that's the way you'd prefer it." He strode over to Hermione and grabbed her wrist, nails digging in painfully enough to make her whimper. Then he lpulled and dragged her to the desk, where he slammed her down on her back.

Hermione panicked. She knew now, knew what he wanted and knew she could not just let him take it. With a shriek her hands came up, fingers like claws to scratch at his eyes, his arms, his face, any part of him she could reach.

She got in a few good scratches and was actually scrambling off the desk when she heard him draw his wand again. Let him do his worst, she thought wildly. I will not lie down and just let him take me. Crawling to the door, she winced when she heard his intake of breath and braced herself for what was to come—but it was not what she had thought it would be.

"Crucio!" Malfoy spat, and she waited for the pain…but there was no pain. Not for her. Instead, Ron let out a piercing scream and struggled wildly against his ropes, convulsing in pain.

She could not know it, but it is certain that if Ron had not been there, Hermione would have continued to fight, and Draco Malfoy would have killed her. But Ron…Ron was in agony and she was the cause. She could take whatever Malfoy did, but she couldn't ask others to endure agony for her sake. With a sob she threw herself at the suffering Ron, shielding him with her body. "Stop!" she cried. "I'll do what you want, just stop hurting him!"

Malfoy lowered his wand and smiled a wolfish smile. He looked her up and down, ignoring the still-convulsing Ron, and bared his teeth. "Come here," he said for the second time, and she shivered. Merlin, how she shivered.

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Harry finally managed to get a good grip on Crookshanks, underneath his forelegs, and hold him at arm's length. "I swear," he said furiously, "One more stunt like that and I'll feed you to the squid." Some students laughed—he was talking to a cat!—but he took no notice. Crookshanks seemed to understand more than most cats.

Wait. Crookshanks did seem to understand more than most cats. Was it possible that there was a reason for his wild behavior? As Crookshanks gave another swipe, Harry thought about the time so recently when Crookshanks had been acting this way before. Crookshanks had run straight to Malfoy, and, as gossip soon revealed, Malfoy had at the time been going to go beat up a couple of fifth-years who had offended him. Friends of Ginny's.

This thought had just occurred to him when Crookshanks finally wriggled out of his grasp and bounded over to the back of the portrait, where he began scratching.

It was either stop Crookshanks or let him out and see what would happen. It was likely nothing was happening, but wouldn't it be better to make sure? Harry remembered his godfather's words: This cat is the smartest of his kind I've ever seen… and made his decision.

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It was like a scene from his worst nightmares. Malfoy had again thrown Hermione onto the desk, spellotaped her arms down to it so that her hands were above her head. She was defenseless against him.

And so was Ron. Ron, still panting from the Cruciatus Curse Malfoy had used so viciously on him, had never felt so helpless. Hermione, who was closer to him than anyone except Harry, was about to be violated in the worst way possible, and he could not figure out how to stop it. Magical ropes were nearly impossible to break, and he was bound very tightly. He had tried to break free. Oh, how he had tried. But he could not do it.

It was because of him Hermione was going to be raped. If he hadn't been there for the Cruciatus Curse to be put on him, she wouldn't have had to give in. Desperately he ran away from this line of thinking. It was all Malfoy. He would get out of these ropes eventually, or someone would find them, and when that happened, he was going to kill Malfoy.

The sound of ripping fabric brought him back mercilessly to reality; he looked up just in time to see Hermione's underwear fall to the floor. His chair was positioned so that he had a side view of what was happening, and what was happening at that moment was Malfoy hastily removing his clothes. His hands! They were all over her body, rubbing and caressing and probing. Then Malfoy positioned himself between her legs. Ron let his head drop—he could not watch this.

The next thing he heard nearly destroyed him. It was Hermione, letting loose a frantic cry of unimaginable pain.

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Crookshanks, who until that point had been unwavering in his sprint through the school, stopped short to let out a howl of fury and hurt. Harry seized the opportunity to catch his breath—running after a mad cat down endless corridors and five flights of stairs did not leave one exactly fresh.

"What is it, Crookshanks?" he begged. "Where the bloody hell are we g—?" But at that moment Crookshanks ceased his howling and again took off like a shot, going, if this was possible, even faster than before; Harry had never thought such small animals could go such great distances in a single bound or turn with such precision. Silently thanking his stamina built up from many years of running away from Dudley and his gang, Harry resumed the chase.

There really wasn't that much farther Crookshanks could go, since he seemed to be taking a direct route to whatever it was. Unless, Harry thought with considerable worry as he ran down yet another flight of stairs to the first floor, they were going out onto the grounds.

Crookshanks ran straight to one of the last places Harry would have thought of: the old, unused Classroom Eleven—and stopped.

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A slap landed hard on her face. "You little bitch!" Malfoy snarled. "Didn't I tell you to be quiet?"

"Please," she whispered. "P-please stop."

He laughed and pulled himself out of her. "You want me to stop? Very well. I'll stop, and begin again with him." Without further warning, he pointed his wand at Ron and again said "Crucio!"

"No!" Hermione cried as Ron's body was wracked with tremors. She just couldn't let Ron be tortured like that. "No, not him, I'm sorry, I'll be quiet!"

Malfoy lowered his wand and smiled his wolf smile. "That's better, Hermione." He stroked her side before spreading her legs.

The second time he entered her was even rougher than the first, and though she tried to suppress every sound, still a whimper or a gasp escaped her lips with his every thrust.

Bitterly she wondered how she had become so weak. Always, she had thought she was strong, and yet here she was, submitting meekly to her rapist after begging for mercy.

At least she could stop herself from crying. Tears of pain threatened to form, and she pushed them back. She would never give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Never.

She realized he was making some noise and looked at him to see what it was. It was a moan of pleasure. He saw her looking and grinned, then reached over to caress her body some more.

Hoping for at least some respite, however minor, she turned her gaze to Ron. His face was turned away from her. Ron was suffering, too. He was still white from the Cruciatus Curse Malfoy had used on him, still shaking from the pain her scream had caused him. And now he would not look at her.

This was all her fault. If she had let Harry and Ron take care of Malfoy after Crookshanks, if she had fought harder, if she hadn't been so gullible, none of them would be here. All these thoughts came to her in the space of the moment, with the last realization coming to her like a slap in the face.

"Are you enjoying this, Hermione?" Malfoy taunted. "Look at me. You love this, don't you?"

With a last glance at Ron, she turned her gaze back on Malfoy and, hating herself, nodded.

Then she closed her eyes and wished for death.


	7. Hero

Since when is Classroom Eleven locked? Harry wondered. Maybe Crookshanks had the wrong room? But Crookshanks was scratching madly at the door, uttering little mews of frustration.

Abruptly Harry had a horrible thought. This is where Hermione is supposed to have detention…with Malfoy! How could he have forgotten?

Harry told himself not to let his imagination run away with him. Ron was there. Nothing was happening. How could it, when teachers were everywhere to keep an eye on things?

But they weren't, Harry remembered. They were all in a top-secret meeting which all the students knew to be about Voldemort. They had been in the meeting since dinner and weren't due to be out for another five or ten minutes…why was this door locked? Why couldn't he hear anything through it?

"All right, Crookshanks," Harry said. "Something is going on in there. Move." He nudged Crookshanks with his foot, and succeeded in getting the ginger cat to back up a couple paces. Raising his wand, he took a deep breath and shouted "Alohomora!" Nothing happened for a split second. Then there was a clicking noise, and the door swung silently open.

The scene that greeted him took his breath away.

Ron sat in a chair in the middle of a sparkling clean room. No, he wasn't sitting. He was held there by an appalling quantity of thin black ropes, wrapping his torso to the chair back, his wrists and lower arms to the chair sides, and his calves to the chair legs. He was white and shaking and his head was drooping as if he were asleep, until Harry saw that his eyes were squeezed shut.

But it wasn't Ron who held Harry's attention. It was the grotesque, monstrous, terrible happening on the desk at the front of the room. Malfoy stood at the side with an enraptured look on his face. He was holding the legs of a shuddering, dead-eyed Hermione and thrusting into her with horrible violence and wild abandon.

For a moment he was too shocked to do anything. Then Crookshanks snapped him out of his reverie by emitting an almighty yowl and rushing forward, claws out, to attack Malfoy.

Malfoy looked up as Crookshanks launched himself into the air, but Harry was too quick for the both of them. "STUPEFY!" he cried, and Malfoy fell backwards senseless. Crookshanks paid no heed to this new turn of events and landed on Malfoy, clawing and hissing furiously.

Harry dashed over to Ron and Conjured a pocket knife, with which he cut the bonds that held Ron's wrists. "Harry…" Ron said weakly. "How did you know to come here?"

"Crookshanks…I'll explain later, Ron. You can cut the rest of the ropes yourself?" Without waiting for an answer, he rushed over to Hermione. Her wrists were taped to the desk so that she couldn't get up, and when Malfoy had fallen away from her, she had curled up and was now shivering on the desk. She looked so small and broken that it made him want to cry. When he gently touched her wrist with the intention of removing the tape, she flinched violently and whispered, not looking at him, "No, no, don't hurt him, I'll be good, no, please…." She trailed off into silence.

"Hermione," Harry said softly, "It's me, Harry. I'm not going to hurt you." He wanted to kill Malfoy for what he had done. Hermione had never been this frail before.

"Harry?" Hermione whispered, looking up at him. Hope flickered in her eyes.

Harry nodded. "I'm going to get this tape off of you, all right?"

"Okay," she murmured, then, "How did you find me?"

"Crookshanks went berserk," Harry said as he peeled off the tape. "He led me here."

Hermione smiled; a small, tremulous smile, but a smile. Harry found her robes and helped her into them gently, then looked around to see where Ron was. He was still bound to his chair, trying to cut through his bonds, but he seemed to be having trouble. "Just a minute," Harry said quickly before hastening to Ron. "Ron—" he started, then broke off. He hadn't noticed because he was so preoccupied, but Ron's wrists were slippery with blood. He had tried to break through the ropes so hard that it broke through his skin. Quickly stooping down to cut Ron's ankle bonds, it became apparent that no effort had been spared here, either.

When Harry cut the last of Ron's ropes for him, Ron staggered to his feet, saw Malfoy (still being mauled by Crookshanks on the floor), let out a carnivorous growl, and set off to get him. He got three steps before his knees gave way. Harry moved hurriedly to catch him. "That bastard!" Ron snarled. "He's hurt her…I couldn't get free from these ropes, but now that I am free, I'm going to kill him!"

"Ron," Harry reasoned, "You're in no state to kill anyone." Oh, how he wanted to break Malfoy's neck. But there was no use in landing himself in prison, not when Hermione would need them both. "Let the law take care of him."

Ron looked at Harry disbelievingly. "You just want to let the idiots at the Ministry take him? Askaban doesn't even have dementors anymore, it'll be no fit punishment for the likes of him. I'll kill him, and I don't care what happens to me because of it!"

"Ron?" said a small voice eight inches beneath him. Ron broke off and looked down at Hermione, and his entire demeanor changed to one of pain. Hermione reached out a trembling hand to touch his bleeding wrist. "Ron, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scream, really I didn't, I tried to be quiet like he asked, but…" A single tear trickled down her cheek. "I'm so sorry I made him hurt you."

Ron reached for her, and she stumbled back and fell. Looking at his hand, Ron's face darkened with alarming rapidity, and he tried again to set off for Malfoy. Such a weakened state was he in, however, that even the light grip Harry had on him was enough to withstand his best efforts.

Harry decided that what they both needed now was to go to the hospital wing, and fast. Ron was bleeding, and Harry thought that if he understood Hermione correctly, Malfoy had hurt Ron in some other way as well. As for Hermione….Who knew what all this had done to her body? I can't carry both of them, and Malfoy, but I'm not sure how well any of them can walk to the hospital wing. The hospital wing was on the third floor and Ron couldn't even manage three steps. Hermione's knees were trembling violently.

"Right," he said as normally as he could. "I don't think any of you can make it to the hospital wing, so…" With a wave of his wand he levitated Malfoy—shaking off a still-going-strong Crookshanks in the process—the way Sirius had levitated Snape in their third year. Turning to Ron, he asked permission without words. Ron scowled but nodded reluctantly, and soon he was in the air alongside Malfoy. He turned to Hermione.

"Please," she said, "I can walk." He nodded—he would have given her anything she asked for at that moment--and they started out of Classroom Eleven. However, Hermione only made it a little way into the hall before her knees made her lose her balance. Harry nearly dropped Ron and Malfoy when he caught her. The hallway was, at the moment, empty but for them.

"Hermione," Harry said again, "I don't think you can walk up two flights of stairs right now."

Her eyes darted across the hallway, and she seemed to be steeling herself to be levitated, so he was thrown off guard when she said, "I can levitate these two, you know."

"Oh, no, you don't have to. Don't worry about it—"

"But you can't levitate all three of us."

"Well, no, but how are you going to levitate them when you're being levitated yourself?"

She hesitated before muttering, quickly and not looking at him, "You could carry me."

Bemusedly, he realized she had not yet pulled away from him. "…Sure, I could….But, 'Mione, do you really want me to?"

"I don't mind," she said, and blushed. "I trust you." She looked up again and gave him another tremulous smile. She stiffened a little, then visibly forced herself to relax and put her arms around his neck.

He had once dreamed of doing this with Cho Chang, though in a very different setting, and he swept Hermione off her feet only a little awkwardly; she took his wand and pointed it steadily at Ron and Malfoy.

It was a long way to the hospital wing, but they would make it. Together, they would make it.


End file.
